a/n: ugh i love this trope so much i wanna eat it
this is severely self-indulgent
c/w: typical dazai, you know the drill.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ♱ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
dazai likes looking at you, and he can be pretty intense too
don't question him about it, he'll deny it.
he isn't good at expressing his emotions normally, but with you, he cracks. especially if you're alone
once you come to realize his outlandish behavior is an act, he can be surprisingly calm.
he is so possessive over you in subtle ways
if an outsider gets a little too close to you, he gets wildly uncomfortable.
like you know how he stares at you? try that but more
typically, people get the hint when they see him looming from behind you.
that lil bit of port mafia leaks out, and it's kinda hot.
he def watches you sleep if you take a nap around him, whether its at your place or his.
frequent sleepovers, at least once a week
he takes the couch at your apartment, but at his, he'll sleep with you in his bed.
you both are kinda casual about a lot of things. cuddling (in private)? sure. sharing drinks? whatever. you don't even blink wen he openly flirts with you.
but you two will not kiss. that's crossing a line.
except for that one time you both got really drunk
neither of you remember that
he's fun to drink with, though. he likes drinking games.
you borrow things from each other, like his jacket or your lip balm.
he doesn't like labels, it makes him feel weird.
it's so nice when you get to have real conversations with him. he's so smart and can go on and on about a lot of things.
but he's also able to share some of his deepest thoughts with you.
he talks less about wanting to die, unless he's having one of those aforementioned heavy conversations.
he's a fun texter
he shows actual interest in you as a person, rather than putting on a face like he does for others.
he has no plans of getting romantic with you. not because he's uninterested, but because he feels safe in the position he is in with you now.
if things get really crazy (like with fyodor and that whole mess), he might confess his feelings for you.
calls you "darling" in private.
he reads to you sometimes.
he accepts help from you when you reach out, and vice versa.
you share office gossip with each other
dazai holds a lot of respect for you if he considers you his closest friend and ally, which in this case, he does.
BSD men with a partner who has allergies - BSD !! … 𝜗𝜚 ₊˚. 🌱
Chuuya - Dazai - Kunikida - Ranpo
Nakahara Chuuya 🍷
中原中也
Mild:
During the spring and summer when your allergies get especially bad he always makes sure to keep some allergy medicine on him. He tears the little squared-off and foiled pills and stuffs a few in his wallet and coat pocket for you. Similarly— he makes sure to always have a handkerchief or some tissues in his jacket and car for you.
When your allergies get especially bad and you’re basically sick, he definitely tells you to just get your ass in bed.
He tries to control your environment as much as possible but there’s only so much he can do. Especially if it’s something like pollen or grass.
You insist on pushing through it for The Cherry Blossom Festival. Which goes about as well as you expect..
Serious:
Chuuya takes your allergies very seriously. He makes sure he always has an epipen on him. He has one in all of his coats, his car— He even has an epipen in his motorcycle for you.
Since Chuuyas a pretty good cook he can make safe food for you to eat. You appreciate it. When the two of you go on dates he always make sure the restaurant has allergy friendly food before going.
Until Chuuya and you started seeing each-other he hadn’t realized how some allergens are pretty much everywhere. Peanuts for example, they’re in pretty much everything for almost no reason. Even some crackers are made with peanut oil.
Osamu Dazai 🥃
太宰治
Mild:
It’s a solid 50/50 on how seriously he takes your allergies. Some days he’ll tell you to walk it off, and give you a little pat on the back. Other days he’ll ransack a pharmacy for all the allergy medicine they have for you.
Some days he’ll drag you into the market, no matter how puffy your eyes, stuffed up your nose, and spinny your head is. Other’s he’ll snuggle up with you in bed and refuse you to let you do anything on your own. It really depends on his mood.
He’s used you to get out of work before. “Kunikidaa.. My partner is sickk!”
He thinks it’s cute when you’re all sniffly and cuddly. He takes way too many pictures of you when your allergies get bad.
Sometimes he’ll get you flowers, and you’ll have to remind him you’re allergic. And he’ll explain he knows, but it’s not like you’ll die.
Serious:
He doesn’t necessarily take your allergies super seriously.. He keeps a look out for your allergen, occasionally swatting something out of your hands if it has peanuts, or shellfish.
He almost always forgets your epipen, but, he always knows how to get one. Do with that what you will.
He occasionally forgets to remind waiters or catering staff at events of your allergies so their have been many, many “WAIT!” moments..
You’ve never actually had an allergic reaction around him. He always manages to catch it just in time. If he wasn’t as lazy you’d never even come near your allergens.
Doppo Kunikida 📔
国木田 独歩
Mild:
He always has a handkerchief. Unlike Chuuya, even before he knew you had allergies he’d always be carrying one around.
He stresses the importance of not overdoing it with allergy medications. For example, Benadryl. He doesn’t want you to end up getting sick..
He’s pretty reluctant about going to flower / spring festivals, because he knows you’ll end up regretting it.. But he can’t say no to you.
When you inevitably get sniffly and sick from the flowers, he gives you an ‘i told you so,’ lecture.
You don’t get flowers on anniversaries since you’re allergic. But, you do get fruit and sweet bouquets. (side note, i used to get so many ads for fruit bouquets when i was little. i always wanted one so freaking bad.)
Serious:
Since he used to be a school teacher he’s very aware of how common certain allergens are as ingredients. Especially peanuts.. Eugh.. He hates even thinking about it.
He definitely used to scour aisles of stores for allergy safe snacks for end of year parties for his students.
You never go anywhere without an epipen. He makes sure of it. And if you’re with him you basically have a walking emergency kit with you 24/7 because of his ability.
He’s only ever seen you have an allergic reaction once, and it was genuinely horrifying for him.
That was when he learned you had allergies.. He was not happy you hadn’t told him. But in your defense it was probably only like your first or second date.
He makes sure every restaurant the two of you go to has passed inspections for cross contamination safety and has allergy safe options.
Ranpo Edogawa 🔎
江戸川 乱歩
Mild:
He always knows when your allergies are about to act up. Could he warn you? Yes. Does he? No..
He notices all the little details, like how some allergy medicines don’t work for you, which time of day your allergies get the worst, and which plants / flowers make your allergies worse.. See, he can be thoughtful!
He avoids getting you flowers in general, usually he gets you snacks or a new book you’ve been eyeing. Something like that.
If you ask him to take you to any sort of flower festival, it’s an immediate no. He’s not putting up with that.
Serious:
He almost always shares his snacks with you, and a lot of times you’ll go to take one without realizing it hasn’t peanuts in it.
Sometimes you’ll take one of his snacks and he’ll swat your hand away. “Has peanuts.”
He makes sure to always keep a few snacks with him that are free of whatever you’re allergic to.
And with the help of ‘Ultra Deduction’— You never have to worry about chasing down catering at events to ask if it’s allergy safe.
Notes :: took me so long to actually post something on here omg FISBEJ
Summary :: dazai mourning your death
They were like a ghost or is that follows Dazai every second a bittersweet reminder of something he will never have the privilege of having again for his lover’s body is now buried underground and cold, devoid of the life the cells used to hold.
The autumn leaves crunched with Dazai’s every step, the cemetery green grass was now covered during the autumn season with crumbling dead leaves. It has been 8 months since he last heard his beloved voice and the seasons was the only sign that time has moved for Dazai, the only thing that bought his grief driven mind out of it’s trace. He eventually got to the spot he was travelling to, moving the orange leaves aside to stop them from covering s/o’s forever bed.
He would normally drop off flowers but had no money to spare, the apartment the couple used to share littered with empty bottles of cheap sake and cans of crab. Dazai sat before the grave a name he used to call out so often etched on the lifeless concrete. He strangely didn’t tear up like the months before now just staring at the grave with lifeless eyes which nearly could be mistaken for a undead corpse.
He didn’t know what he was doing anymore so just spoke to his lover’s grave like they were still breathing in front of him no concern for the possibility of looking crazy. He might as well be crazy at this point right?
“I lost my wallet in the river again luckily the photo of us didn’t get lost at least though” He spoke voice solemn and a pathetic attempt of mimicking the life he used to have in his tone when he spoke to you.
Dazai was jealous of the dirt that covered your body, as selfish as this is, he wanted to be the one to die first, the one to be sleeping forever getting the luxury of being with you for his whole life, yet here he is. He was struggling going through this grief for a second time and he didn’t think he could anymore.
“Y’know every morning I awake up and long to hear your voice belladonna, I miss the warmth it had” He mumbled voice cracking at the seams.
warnings - mention of overdosing, death, overall depression and angst
There’s an art to overdosing, perhaps the thrum of your blood pulsing through your body after swallowing each pill, or your heartbeat that throbs through your head with the knowledge of the drug entering your body, your stomach. It takes a while for it to have any effect, still minutes while you sit there pensively, waiting. But the sensation always arises with a gurgle, leaving your stomach churning and your head lolled to the side when the wave of dizziness creeps in like the sea shore.
“Love, wake up.”
It’s always his voice that rouses you from the drug's sleepy effect, a soft hand against your cheek that you find yourself leaning into. Cold to your skin that is set aflame, heat roaring through your body and leaving you in a thick coat of sweat.
“Dazai,” you murmur in return.
It's something about the way he presses you to his chest, something about the way that he cradles you that truly makes you consider the thin life between life or death. When he carries you back to the hospital in hopes that this time, this time, you’ll realize just how much you mean to him.
That you won’t try to take away your life. Again.
But his arms aren’t enough, and the broken shards that make you cannot be repaired, cannot be pieced back together in any way that he hopes. Despite being the only one to truly understand you, the thin string that churned with every mistake, with every thrum of pain you felt. Dazai was the most adamant about saving you.
“Let me go.”
The soft rumble of his chest soothes you, his laugh was as numbing as the medication through your body. Just as hollow, empty and cold. Scoffing. “I will never let you go.”
You smiled, the motion of your lips pulling tight, unnatural. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“Dazai, please.”
His embrace tightened, you could dimly register the feel of his bandages against your skin. The paper-like texture itching the flush of your body, the lightheaded feeling that encased you whole.
“No.”
So you allowed yourself to be carried to the cage of a medical bed, the needle that protruded your arm for the following days. The brown eyes that followed your every footstep, your every movement. You allowed yourself to be coddled to sleep, hiding the sobs you wanted to express, begging, pleading to be set free.
“Let me go.”
Dazai considered himself to be doing a favour, and perhaps he believed that because you saved him so long ago, he could save you.
“Let me go.”
One day, you hoped the message would reach him. Loud and clear.
As im writing on the continuation of knight! Tetchou x reader x Emperor! Dazai, ive noticed that its getting rly long (like prob 5-6k words rn or more 👹 didnt rly count) so -
would yall want it...
everything in one post, we want it LONG LONG 🤩🤩
nah two seperate parts r fine or we getting overloaded 😮💨😮💨💅
My heart is devoted to the one I shouldn’t love...
Fyodor x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Trying to keep it fluff.
"... A demon you say?" You question with hesitation, pale face bearing a frown as you try to put all the puzzles together. "That man is the super ability user and a terrorist that Yokohama is so desperate to catch? The very man, I spent countless evenings going to museums and libraries with? The very man with his astonishing diamond brain had helped me solve several murder cases?"
Silence settled between you and other Special Division Forces agents who glared at you with fear or utter confusion.
Nobody knew of your accidental connection with Fyodor Dostoevsky, or simply known as Demon Fyodor, and it sure was a surprise to you when your (e/c) eyes noticed a familiar face on all the screens and papers in the office with a screaming title: 'Wanted Criminal. Terrorist. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Highest rank ability user. Ability unknown.'
You honestly had no idea who the mysterious slender man was when you first met him at the museum. He looked charmingly tired, sharp purple eyes looked deeply into your soul while you both stood, rather awkwardly, near a woodblock painting that depicted the suffering of young children and women. Their weak bodies engulfed by flames, others were drowning in the peaceful veil of water. Despite the horrible scenario the colours united in harmony making you both stare at it for longer than you should have.
"The choice of the colour pallet... It mocks their suffering" you stated after a while, rather talking to yourself but hoping, subconsciously, that a curious stranger with a funny white hat would respond to your comment. To your amusement he did.
"Mhm," he nodded at first, pinching his chin like philosophers do while thinking and then slowly added: "Maybe the painter wanted to tell us that not all sufferings are recognizable at first glance. I noticed when walking up to the painting, the bright colours made me think of happiness and kindness, however, now that we stand closer to it we see that their very souls are in terrible agony" Fyodor's voice was soft like moonlight rays with a gentle touch of a foreign accent.
"I suppose... It depicts life itself. We never know how much one suffers due to the façade they’re putting" you said with a sad smile. At this very moment you looked delightful, Fyodor found a strange pleasure in watching your serious face merging into a saddened frown. And oh, he did it on purpose. He could've chosen a less explicit interpretation of the absurd painting but in his calculated mind he knew that this version would strike you the most... And he was right.
You still didn't move from the tiny painting, twirling a strand of your silky, (h/c) hair around your finger, beautiful eyes glued to the painting but your thoughts wandered far away.
It took one glance from Fyodor to understand your entire being, no matter how complicated you think of yourself - to him you are an open book, and he could not resist the urge to live the faint mark on one of those innocent, white pages.
“I apologize if my interpretations upset you, miss...” started Fyodor with a polite smile curving upon his frail face, but was interrupted by your sudden enthusiastic reply:
“Oh, please don’t apologize. One is a fool if they are not moved or hurt by art” your voice was gentle and soft and Fyodor couldn’t help but love your words.
Perhaps you two were more similar than he thought at first. In any case, enchanted by your watchful careful eyes, your smile and graceful movements of your hands, your speech and voice - he couldn’t just let you go like that, out of his sight.
A man tilted his head sideways a little, looking pleasantly amused, letting his dark locks fall upon his cheek, gently. “It seems that I found a charming lady who shares a similar view on things with me” something bittersweet hid in his words but it didn’t matter to you.
With a small, delightful laugh you move your right hand forward: “My name is, (y/n). A pleasure to meet you”
Expecting a handshake you watched as the man in a long dark cape came closer, gently grabbed your pale small hand and softly kissed the back of your hand;
“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady” he murmured watching how your pupils dilate. “My name is Fyodor. Would you agree to spend the rest of the evening in my company?”
Walking around with a stranger whom you’ve just met seemed like a ridiculous idea... But you felt safe around him, although his eyes were dark as a bottomless well, you agreed but made a promise to yourself to stay on guard. However, he cast away all your suspicions in just a few hours.
You became good friends, discussing ancient Myths and modern poetry embarked on philosophical journeys sitting in the dim corner of the library simply enjoying the presence of each other. He even played his cello for you under the mocking bright moon. His words and the depths of thought sometimes caught you off guard however, you were able to track his line of thoughts and in return challenged him with your endless and charming affection.
Fyodor never learnt what the word love truly meant. He could explain its psychological and physiological effect but never experienced it himself. He was in absolute control over his feelings and that is why he felt confused when you would meet him with a bright, loving smile that changed into a slightly concerned frown when you noticed dark eye-bags on his face. Why did you notice it? Why did you care? Who gave you the power to capture his heart so suddenly and so... wrongly?
For the first time in a long while, Dostoevsky felt as if he made a dreadful mistake. At first, he thought of you as a pawn. Easy to move and easy to get rid of. But you reminded him of himself... yet you were so much better! Despite your intellect and wittiness, you had a warm, loving heart, that even accepted a demon like him. It all changed when you finally opened up to him about your placement of work. That’s when he realised how forbidden your relationship would be. Soon you would find out anyway about his identity, his goals and... it would wound you. Deeply.
Soon he stopped coming to the museum where you two would usually meet. You remember that day. You took his favourite tea from the shop and held it in your cold hands while the hot drink burnt your fingers.
‘He will never come again’
You felt as if you lost a piece of your heart. But you never cried about it and kept all the memories of the mysterious man named Fyodor close to your heart, or rather what was left of your heart.
But now it all makes sense. The puzzle is complete. You stand in the room full of your colleagues who proceed to glare at you in silent amusement and your heart leapt in ecstasy. The adrenaline rushed through your blood as your cheeks turned red - you felt like the main character of your own story, engaged in a forbidden relationship with the demon himself.
You didn’t care about the consequences but on entering the Special Prison for the restrained Ability Users, shadows of doubt crept within your heart.
“Please wait here, ma’am. You sure you want to interrogate him?”
“Yes”
“In terms of emergency, we won’t be able to assist you immediately... ”
“I understand”
The heavy door was shut behind you, a metal desk was drilled into the floor and so were the chairs. No windows - just solid rock walls that reminded you of a medieval dungeon, except there were no cracks at all. Finally, you heard footsteps and another door before you was opened.
“Good afternoon, Fyodor,” you said in a strict tone trying to hide your excitement as much as you could.
His lilac eyes widened in surprise, thin lips parted as he watched you right there before him. In his head, he tried to process why you came out of your way to see him? Did he not abandon you back then? Did you not realise what a hateful creature he was?
“(Y/n)... Why are you here?” he questioned curiously.
You were now completely alone in the interrogation - underground cell. He watched you come closer to him with a soft smile looking with kindness into his soulless eyes...
“Why, you ask? Because I love you. That is the only concept you failed to fully understand. Monsters have hearts as well, they just need to learn how to love” words fell softly from your rosy lips while Fyodor closed his eyes and chuckled to himself.
“Talking to you is pure joy (y/n)! Love is the ultimate atonement of all human sins. Even a Devil needs someone to love him at the end of his immortal life...“
“... Angels did fight for Faust’s soul at the end, despite all his reckless deeds” you added referencing the work of a German poet, Goethe.
Fyodor sighed. He reached his slender cold hand towards you and you grabbed it without hesitation.
“Will you be... my angel, (y/n)?”
You nodded raising your bright eyes at him. A soft kiss was placed upon your forehead before he hugged you letting you bury your face in his shoulder. You were like a blooming flower in his deadly grip... but he would never hurt you. Ever.
People say the forbidden fruit is sweet... But is it so for the forbidden love that burns like fire?
lmao part 2 is gonna be saddddd (if I get the motivation to even write it)
